It's Not His Anymore
by The Fallen Dark Angel
Summary: A short oneshot about Nezumi reflecting on the manhunt from his dressing room. WARNING! This is an AU where Shion died in the manhunt before they even made it to the correctional facility. Set a year after No.6.


It's not His Anymore.

Hi, this was one of my assignment pieces for my class. I had to tweak it a little to get it back to being Nezushi as I had originally intended but I hope it's OK! :) It was supposed to be a date preparation scene where a character went and did something then came back. Kinda a before and after.

Summary: a short oneshot about Nezumi reflecting on the manhunt. An AU where Shion died in the manhunt before they even made it to the correctional facility. Set a year after No.6.

Nezumi's confidence was tangible in the air as he stood in the middle of his dressing room. his arms were thrown out to the sides and his eyes were closed; the usual smirk was painted on lips. Nezumi was thinking about the past again. Around him, on the walls and on the many tables were pictures of the old run down theatre. Some were crooked against the peeling walls and some were stuck into the mirror or on the desk next to the dried up petals of a dying flower. Unused lipsticks and powder brushes lined the dressing table in front of more of the same old picture frames some turned down in mourning for the dead actors of the theatre. Nezumi didn't feel the need to take much care of the dressing room he had in the west block, nobody else who used this room did. He didn't particularly want to stay here much longer. The smell of blood and the people who came here were filled with anger and sorrow about the manhunt. The sadness they all felt was still lingering in the paintwork and the very walls of the building.

Nezumi opened his eyes and walked over to his dressing table to finish his makeup. His thoughts were still blooming in his head like the dead flowers next to him once had. His long blue dress swayed as he walked, flowing out and sliding along his body as Nezumi twirled humming to himself. The black haired actor caught his image in the long floor length mirror and smiled as genuinely as he could as an act. Elyurias' song ran through his head and Nezumi started singing the song to himself.

A smirk reappeared on Nekumi's face as he pretended to Waltz as he sang. It was hard to follow the steps with his mind always turning to his absent partner. All the while, he could see an image of his old friend and love smiling up at him from in his arms. Shion would've wrapped his arms around Nezumi's waist. He would proclaim something stupid about how he could feel safe with Nezumi even if he was held at gun point. Even now, Nezumi could imagine the sunset behind them and the quiet laugh as Shion said his name. They had twirled through the ruins of a once-tall west block that now, didn't even amount to ash or rubble. All that was left was grass and flowers but most of them died trying to grow through the thick dry ground.

A knock on the door snapped Nezimi's dream away from his mind and causing him to abruptly stop his movements. He walked slowly to the door to pull on the satin blue pumps that had been laid aside. He ran his hands down the length of his blue hair to check it was straight but his worries were in vain as he found out it lay flat against his shoulders. A delicate and fresh flower was attached to a headband of shining crystal beads that circled the top of his head twice, drooping at the back as they shone prettily. He could already hear the crowd shouting his stage name: _'Eve! Eve! Eve!_' He would always hear them call as he walked down the side of the stage ready to act.

He couldn't keep his mind on acting these days, he would always move on autopilot in the theatre. Not that the animals that came to see him minded, it's not like they were there for the theatre anyway… his manager didn't even comment these days on how he was always distracted. He wouldn't even say 'not your best' if they passed in the halls.

Nezumi may love acting, but he never was more relieved these days when the curtains closed. He needed money so he could run away, that was the only real reason he was still there.

He was followed back to his dressing room by a crowd of people who had all paid off the bouncers to let them backstage. Nezumi rolled his eyes but still smiled at them and bowed as he walked to his room.

The silent space was suddenly illuminated as Nezumi opened the door again. A bouquet of orchids and Lilies were clutched in the crook of his elbow as he held himself with grace. He waved with a secretive flirty smile pasted on his lips as the cries and applause followed his into his room. In his doorway he took the flower out of his hair and with rehearsed yet fluid movements, held the flower close to his and inhaled the sweet scent before throwing it out into the crowd of wild dogs snapping to grab a piece of this one actor.

Nezumi watched for a signal and smiled wider when he saw his manager giving an eyeroll and a nod. He turned, winked over his shoulder, and slowly closed the door making the spectators groan out their disapproval to him leaving. He knew they would all be back, so didn't think much to the crowd's displeasure, not that he would've anyway…

As soon as the door shut, his expression dropped and the flowers that had been tucked into his arms were tossed carelessly onto the desk. Petals fell out of the badly wrapped bouquet and Nezumi picked one up between his fingers to inspect it for a second. It was soft, like smooth satin silk and the colour reminded his of rosy cheeks. He smiled as he held the petal to his lips for a second. Someone must have realised that pink roses were his favourite and not the red ones he was often brought.

To him, red flowers were sickening. The colour red meant only death. Red was the colour of blood. Just like the blood he still saw in his mind, innocent blood that had been spilled by soldiers on the dusty streets of their town during the manhunt. The angry and grief stricken citizens had been told everyone cowered in fear, realising now, just as they did every year that their lives were disposable in the eyes of the city. The actor shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that lingered there. He didn't want to imagine the blank red eyes and he didn't want to imagine the red that soaked the white hair or the clean button up shirt.

He rubbed at his face with his hands first, using the excuse of trying to get his makeup off to dig his fingers into his eyes. Behind his eyelids he could see Shion's smiling face and his red eyes and white hair. The images caused Nezumi to press his fingers into his eyes even harder. He took his makeup off quickly after that while being careful not to look at the picture of them slotted into the top corner of the mirror. Inukashi had taken it and given it to him after he heard what happened to Shion.

He pulled on his scruffy ripped clothes, ready to face another week in his nightmare town. This was the place that reminded his of the one person he had lost in the massacre that had happened a year ago. Nezumi wrapped an old hole-filled scarf around his neck. He brought it up to his face and pressed it against his nose and mouth to inhale the scent. He broke away quickly with tears that would never fall glistening faintly in his eyes and a frown of disgust.

It didn't smell like Shion anymore.


End file.
